Silk and Pearls
by shatteredjewels
Summary: On the morning of her birthday, Zelda walks down to a room she's always avoided and faces a facet of her past.


It was the morning of my second seventeenth birthday when I decided that it was finally time to confront my past. In my other life, I had been masquerading as Sheik, and the fight against Ganondorf had taken precedence over the demons of my past. However, in my new life where I had grown up in relative normality, it was time to turn around and face the shadows.

When I woke up, I chose not to ring for the maid, knowing that once everyone knew I was awake, I would have no time to my own devices and my entire day would revolve around getting ready for the party to be held that night in honor of my birthday. I suppose this confrontation could take place another day, but this felt right. It felt monumental. Maybe I fancied myself an adult now, felt that with my new age came new strength.

And so I slipped into a dress and crept out into my sitting room. It was just nearing sunrise, and Amsie hadn't been in to set out my tray yet. With luck, they wouldn't realize I was gone, Impa still allowed me to sleep in on birthdays. And so I lit a candle and slipped into the secret passage behind the tapestry that had once served the sole purpose of allowing my mother easy access to my rooms when I was a baby. Once, both my parents had occupied that suite, but those days were no longer. My father had moved to the east wing years ago and left the rooms behind.

It didn't take me long to walk down the steps and I entered a room that I had avoided for years.

The room that held the remembrance of my mother.

The servants had kept it immaculate, it was as though the room breathlessly awaited the return of its mistress. Everything was just as she had left it. I walked in uncertainly, feeling an intruder. It had been years since those days when I was just a tiny thing with a fluff of blonde hair… I felt the memories wash over me as I began my walk around the room.

Her vanity was still stocked with her scent bottles and brushes. I could still remember the nights, when I sat with her as she brushed her long hair, clad only in a slip preparing for a ball. She had whispered that someday I would sit like this, preparing to spend a night entertaining like she did. She would run her brush through my own hair and dabble a spot of perfume on my wrist. I would run my fingers over her diamonds and rubies and she would laugh and call me her little princess and tell me that I would one day wear jewels and be a queen.

I remember sitting on the brocaded bed and hugging a pillow embroidered by her expert needle and watching her maids help her dress. The delicate creations would be clasped and set on her tiny frame and she would turn to look at herself in the mirror with a saucy smile on her face. "What will my elderly king think of this one?" she would ask, and then she would laugh and blow a kiss at me. "Good night, my little darling, my little princess, I will tell you all about the fun in the morning."

And she would. I walked into her sitting room where the carved table was still polished and the satin covered chairs still brushed and clean, where my legs had swung back and forth as I carefully poured our tea from the blue patterned china. Her hair would be down and she would be in a dressing gown and she would laugh as she described the nobles, and she would tell me of the ladies attire and the gentlemen's manners and the food and the wine. Even now, I could feel the haze of the warm fire and hear her murmuring voice, calling me her little princess and telling me that someday I would be the belle of the ball and the men would flock to my side, begging me for a waltz.

I had worn her perfume, fingered her jewels, drunk her tea and dreamed of being her. I tried to be what she wanted, tried so hard to be her little princess.

I remember the day she screamed at me. I was playing with my dolls in the nursery when she stumbled in. She stared around with a wide, vapid look on her face, as though she had no idea where on earth she was. And then she saw me. She had laughed, not her usual throaty chuckle, but a loud, ugly laugh. "Oh, Zelda!" she had cried. "What an evening I have had! You should have seen it, such a lovely party! And the dancing!" and she started singing in a loud, wavering voice and began to waltz around the room with an invisible partner. "The look on your father's face when I danced with the Baron, it was simply priceless!"

At this point I was so frightened that I dropped my doll and her porcelain face had smashed. My mother whirled to face me, and when she saw the pieces, she went into a fury. Her screams echoed out into the hall, and she advanced on me with drunken purpose.

My father saved me that night. He heard her yells, and he dragged her up the stairs with her fists flailing and her voice screeching the entire way. He returned later, when she was asleep, and held me as I cried. And he tucked me in and read me a story and stayed by my side until I fell asleep.

Things got worse after that. Sometimes I would creep out of bed and sneak down the stairs to listen at their door. I could hear them shouting, hear my mother scream; hear the door slam as he stalked out of their chambers. One night, I crept out into the corridors and stole down to his study where he sat in a chair before the fire. I climbed up into his lap and he stroked my hair and told me that he loved me and we sat there, quiet and calm, until morning.

I remember the night she made her final mistake. She had prepared for her ball and I had sat on the couch and watched as the pins were placed in her hair and the rouge was applied to her cheeks. She was excited and her eyes were glowing and she had smiled at me as the crimson red silk was draped around her and the blood red roses were set in her hair. She had put on her perfume and her shoes and her rubies and she had kissed me goodnight, and whispered in my ear that tonight was to be her special night, tonight was the night that she would remember for the rest of her life. She had brushed my hair out of my eyes and told me that I was her little princess and that someday, I would look just like her and get to live the life she lived. And then she blew me a kiss and walked out the door.

I was forced to grow up too fast in the whirlwind that was that night. My mother left the ball early with the Baron, and my father knew and decided that he had had enough. In the morning, he entered their chamber and told her that she had two choices. She could leave the castle and see if the Baron loved her enough to take a divorced queen, or she could stay in the castle and live a new life. He told her that if she stayed, her life would be far different. He would take away all her lovely things, and she would live in confinement, no parties, no dances, no dinners or fancy dress balls.

That night my mother sent for me. I was lead down to her chambers and she took my hands and told me that she had a present for me. It was a small box encrusted in jewels, and she told me to open it. I remember that moment, her hands, soft as silk on my shoulders, her breath tickling my ear. She had giggled as I opened the box. It was lined with a soft pink fabric and set with spaces and slots for bracelets and rings. The back held a mirror, and before it spun a tiny dancer in iridescent silk, twirling to a haunting lullaby. My mother whispered in my ear that it was a perfect present for her little princess.

She kissed the top of my head, and left my side. I stared at the dancer, watching her spin and listening to the song. When the last bars faded away, I turned and saw my mother.

She was standing by the open window, smiling at me. I remember her, dressed in her finest, the deep blue velvet lined with sky blue silk and pearls. Her hair was pulled up with her royal crown set on the mass of curls and her face was powdered and dusted with shimmery cosmetics. She was regal, she was beautiful, and she blew me a kiss and said goodbye to her little princess.

I watched her as she threw herself from that window.

My mother's body died, but sometimes I believe her spirit lived on to haunt my father and me. My father was deeply pained by her suicide, and I sometimes wondered if he would ever sleep. He would pace in the library night after night, all alone as the fire died down and he was left tracing the carpet patterns in darkness and I knew his was killing himself thinking about her.

Impa was what saved us. With my mother gone, there was no one to express disgust at a stern Sheikah's presence, and she stepped in to her rightful place as guardian of the royal family. She had my father's things moved to the east wing, and the old royal chambers were left alone. She shamed him into remembering his country and he went on as king. And she showed me a new kind of love, a real love. She had taught me that my mind was more important than beauty, and I learned that being a princess was more than parties and perfume.

At first, I tried to block the memories of my mother, but sometimes, they sprang up unexpectedly. When I walked into the library, I could see her arranging flowers in a vase in the corner, when I walked outside the castle, I could see her mangled body smashed among the roses, when I picked the azaleas, I could smell her perfume.

But today, I faced her head on. I walked through her suite and I looked at her things. Possessions had meant a great deal to my mother. I saw her gilded furniture and the dresses in her wardrobe. I saw her trinkets and her figurines and her mirrors and her brushes and her powder jars and everything that she had loved.

She had loved her things more than me.

I shook my head as I walked back over to the back door and opened it, taking up my candle.

In those six short years, my mother had tried to raise me to be a monster like her.

But she was gone, and she couldn't hurt me anymore.

I was a princess, yes, but I wasn't her princess.

I was Princess Zelda.

And I belonged to Hyrule.

**Author's Notes!**

The concept and (to an extent) the style of this was inspired by a re-reading of one of my favorite books. Kudos to you if you can figure out which book!

The initial fic was easy to write, but when I had to clean it up… Oy, the verb tenses got confusing. I'm still not perfectly happy, but oh well. Sometimes you just have to stop and let it go.

So yay for a short and sweet oneshot! I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews, comments and criticism are greatly appreciated!

SJ


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